Thrive!

Giving Thanks in the Storm

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 5 Comments

I know you may have wondered if the Storyteller had stopped telling stories altogether. Or, perhaps you assumed that I am overwhelmed by the all the last-minute edits and “stuff” that will, at last, get Book 1 of “Morgan’s Landing” into your hands.  The latter is true, but since I last posted, my family has experienced tragedy and loss that has kept my heart and mind elsewhere.

My apologies for there not being a First Friday Freebie in November.  Those days were filled with tears and prayers.

Now here we are, the day before Thanksgiving, when so many families will gather together for laughter and feasting and joy. I wanted to make a special effort to encourage you to treasure your Thanksgiving celebration and to take a good, hard look around that table and realize that in the blink of an eye any one of those chairs might be found empty.

Seven years ago (it lacked only about twelve hours, in fact, being on the exact same date) we experienced another great loss.  It is difficult enough to say goodbye to a parent or another loved one who has lived a long and full life, but the blunt trauma of having to release those who are young and vibrant into the arms of God is a different and terrible kind of pain.

I saw the quote in the above photo a few years ago and the truth of it really impacted me.  Grief is exactly that.  Every ounce of the love that you had within you for someone is still there and you have no place to pour it out, to lavish it, to say it, to express it with a kiss and a hug.  You can no longer place the bouquet into their arms and tell them that they are special – that they matter.

While Smuffy and I still have each other and Pookie and her family are still intact, we have all had our hearts torn at this loss. We realize that though we have our own grief, our greatest pain is the realization that the mother, siblings, grandparents and small children of the one who has left our family are suffering something that we cannot even imagine.

Yet, it is time to give thanks.

Laura Ingalls Wilder, in her book, “The Long Winter”, tells of her family’s struggle with isolation and near starvation for eight months in a house in which they would have frozen to death if they hadn’t spent their days binding slough grass into “logs” in order to make it burn in the wood stove for more than just a minute or two.  Their only food was a little grain that her mother managed to portion out in hopes that it would last until train tracks were cleared and supplies could be brought into the town.  When Laura complained one day about having nothing else to eat, Ma corrected her by saying, “We mustn’t complain about what we do have, Laura.”

There will be homes all across our country that will have a Thanksgiving with no turkey and all the trimmings.  There will be homes with lavish festivities where laughter abounds.  There will be homes of both types with an empty chair at the table. 

Yet, it is time to give thanks for what we do have.

Set aside all the family squabbles and, for a moment, look around at each family member and imagine them vanishing from their place at the table.  Give thanks to God for each one who is there. You can come back to Him with all your “whys” on a different day.

The book, “The Landing of the Pilgrims” is taken largely from the diaries of William Bradford, so it is a first-hand, on-the-spot account of what the Puritans of Plymouth colony experienced.  My heart was pierced over and over again by how many times he wrote that they considered themselves “a people blessed”.  Though half the colony died of cold, sickness and starvation during their first winter in their new world, they were still able to say, over and over again, that they considered themselves blessed.  They had survived with the hope that they would thrive again.

I appreciate this poem by Ruth Graham  –

I will lay my whys before Your cross and worship, kneeling,
My mind too numb for thought, my heart beyond all feeling,
And worshiping realize that I,
In knowing You, don’t need a why.

This passage from the Scriptures, written by the prophet Habakkuk, challenges me to reaffirm my faith  –

“Though the fig tree does not bud, and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails, and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior.”

It is time to give thanks.  Take a precious inventory of what you do have!

May your family experience blessings, grace and safety during the entire holiday season.  Happy Thanksgiving!

It’s August. Now what?

~ Midwest Storyteller

If you’ve kept to more than a few of my posts here, I’m sure you’ve gathered that I love old things. Old books embrace me. Old movies draw me in. Old folks’ tales take me back, teaching me much and making me grateful. Old ways of life make me realize that not all things modern make life better. Old friends feed my soul. Old customs make me long for a time when, for the most part, we were a more courteous and honorable people.

A few years ago, my family (they know I like the old stuff) added to my Mother’s Day gift a copy of “Mrs. Sharp’s Traditions: Reviving Victorian Family Celebrations of Comfort & Joy” by Sarah Ban Breathnach. Now, how did they know that was right up my rose-lined foot-path? It’s one of those books that is so full of beautiful artwork on nearly every page that turning the pages without even reading it brings you peace. I found it for you here on Thriftbooks for under six dollars! Of course, it’s also on Amazon for around twenty dollars.

Here’s an example of a page in my copy that depicts Victorian life in the month of August.

Victorian Life in August from "Mrs. Sharp's Traditions" www.midweststoryteller.com

As I flipped through it today, it struck me that we’ve come a long way from this scene and in some ways this is a relief! I thank the Good Lord for air conditioning, especially since my thermometer registered 99 degrees today. As a culture, we are far more likely to shove the kids (or ourselves) in the direction of the pool or the TV than we are to embrace nature or, if confined indoors, invent our own ways of having fun together. That causes us to miss out on a lot. Families thrive when they are together and engaged. Your children and grandchildren’s relationships with others their age thrive when they are doing something with each other besides texting and social media. It can be a struggle to get back to where we belong.

I thought I would review the book and offer you a glimpse of some of Mrs. Sharp’s ideas that might help you turn this last stretch of summer into something that draws the family together rather than apart. My apologies here to any artists or writers here if doing so violates any rules of the trade, but I fail to see what this review can do other than to promote the sale of more of your books!

Sarah Ban Breathnach created the fictional Mrs. Sharp sometime after a debilitating accident put her out of commission for quite some time. Mrs. Sharp then became so beloved that many readers became convinced she was a real person. It was a little disheartening, wasn’t it, when you found out Betty Crocker was – Oops! Well, I guess that was a spoiler for some of you, wasn’t it?

If you’re tired of being the family activities coordinator who can’t pull the participants out of their rooms and off their phones, you can start with something simple such as a Matinee Party. Pop the popcorn and gather everyone around (family members or friends) for a movie in the comfort of air conditioning. This is the modern version of getting everyone outside for a neighborhood stage production or puppet show. If you can handle the heat, choose the latter two! Your kids will remember it far longer than the movie. You could even hire a trustworthy teenager to be the director and oversee rehearsals.

She suggests a memory book party. Provide scrapbooks and glue and, set up a table and put out everyone’s photos and memorabilia in front of them. Soon they’ll each be creating their own special book and writing what they remember about the experience or items on each page.

If you’re like me, you might want to plan literary games. Kids can cook a meal based on their favorite book, such as the Twelve Oaks barbecue from “Gone With the Wind” or fried catfish and corn bread from “Tom Sawyer”. If that’s too complicated, consider a croquet game as in “Alice in Wonderland”. Mrs. Sharp recommends skipping the use of flamingos, however. Personally, I’d leave hedgehogs out of it as well.

Of course, in Victorian times, people made fun out of necessary work. Once the process of canning became widespread, there was hardly a household that didn’t fill a cellar with shelves bursting with jars of garden produce. Later, we all lapsed into buying all our canned goods, but now that we have better equipment in our air-conditioned kitchens, it it catching on again amongst those who want to grow their own healthier, tastier food and enjoy it throughout the year. Not only would your children learn much if you involve them in the process, but they might really enjoy it if you get some cute labels for the jars, let them label their own products with their name and then, of course, have the joy of delivering a jar or two of it to someone they’d like to bless.

Don’t forget about doing just what you see in the beautiful art here. Just enjoy nature on it’s own. Watch the weather forecast and when a slightly cooler or overcast day is expected, head outside or to a nature center and collect all sorts of leaves, seeds, pods and types of things other than ticks, chiggers and poison ivy. Peach pits can be carved into baskets and acorn tops can become dishes for dolls to eat from.

Planning the outing with family or friends can be just as exciting as actually going. I had to remind myself of this recently when Smuffy and I had planned to take Lil’ Snookie to a nature center for the day. There were trails, activities set up in clearings in the woods and surprises like a giant turtle to climb on and a very tall tower designed to prevent falls. Lil’ Snookie had a blast and just kept shouting out, “We’re hikers!” intermittently throughout the day. This grandma, however, had to adjust her attitude in midstream due to the fact that she had failed to notice that the inside of the place would be closed on that particular day. You see, the inside was filled with live animals, a giant fish tank and a further array of fun hands-on learning that would have delighted Lil’ Snookie beyond his wildest dreams. However, since he’d never been there before and had never seen the inside, the picnic lunch and outdoor attractions were more than enough and after ten minutes or so of wanting to stomp, spit and wave my arms in frustration, I joined in with a shout of, “We’re hikers!” and we had a great day. Smuffy, however, expressed the opinion that Raccoon Run was a far longer trail than necessary and I opted out of climbing the tower due to the fact that I felt I’d already climbed every giant fallen log in the forest.

There’s always the good old backyard campout. Smuffy knows that aside from preparing the food I’ll put him entirely in charge of a thing like that and he says he’ll wait until Lil’ Snookie and Fruity Pebbles are old enough to stay out there longer than five minutes once the coyotes start their evening concert.

Maybe you want to grab a copy of “Mrs. Sharp’s Traditions: Reviving Victorian Family Celebrations of Comfort & Joy” and find out what you can do throught the year to draw your family together in positive ways. (No need to dress the part unless you absolutely thrive on that sort of thing.)

Whatever you do, enjoy the rest of summer! Leave a comment and tell me what kind of interesting things you’ve done that bolster family togetherness.

Waiting is HARD!

~ Midwest Storyteller
Waiting at the Window www.midweststoryteller.com

It seems we’ve been waiting for so many things in our lives. The item at the top of our list has finally arrived.  Pookie and her hubby have just welcomed a new baby girl which means that Lil’ Snookie now has a baby sister!  Oh, the anticipation! 

From the minute Lil’ Snookie knew there was a tiny baby in Mama’s tummy, he declared that he would have a sister, she would look like him and that he would call her Fruity Pebbles.  Though his mommy and daddy might have preferred to wait and be surprised on the big day, his insistence that he would have a sister caused them to open the sealed envelope the doctor had given them just in case they had to explain to him that sometimes God thinks you need a brother. 

Well, sister it was!  At various times in the week following the big news, Big Brother would look up from whatever toy or activity he was engaged with, catch my eye and with a knowing smile, softly say, “I was right, Grandma.”

And then we waited.  At times the months seemed to fly by and at other times it seemed that Fruity Pebbles was taking her own sweet time.  Overall, it was a fun type of wait (except for Mama in those last few weeks).

Little did we know that Lil’ Snookie was in for a different type of wait and this time it would not be fun.  Though he knew and seemed to understand that Mama and Daddy would go to the hospital so the doctor could help bring Fruity Pebbles out into the world and he would be having a sleepover at our house, something just didn’t seem right about the whole thing in his little heart.  Though he visited every day, an extended hospital stay proved to be agonizing.  This type of waiting hurt.

Do we thrive in times of waiting?  Fruity Pebbles certainly did, as was proved by her robust size and appetite when she arrived.  And, by the way, she does look just like her brother.

I once heard the Bible teacher Joyce Meyer say that we may as well get used to waiting on God because we are going to spend the greater part of our lives doing it.  I have found this to be true, but I’m not sure it makes it any easier.

When people hear that my book series is coming out soon and that a screenplay for a series is being written based on it, many of them say something to the effect that I’m becoming an overnight success.  Overnight?  Hardly.  I have had to wait on myself to finish a rough draft, tediously gone through edits, waited for appointments and opportunities to meet with agents and publishers, waited for them to review my manuscripts, waited for replies, waited for contracts. Now I’m waiting again for the final edit and cover art to be completed while I work on another edit of the next book in the series. This last decade has hardly seemed overnight to me.

Through the years I’ve waited, as many of you have, for answers to prayers whether they’ve concerned health, relationships or finances. I can’t say that any of those waits have been fun. Waiting is not something you learn to do and become so proficient at that it ceases to be a disrupting factor in your life.  Waiting is something that you just do.  The only thing you learn is how to trust God and try not to get on other people’s nerves while you’re doing it.

Once the text message arrived that Mama and Daddy were on the way home (accompanied by a photo of Fruity Pebbles all fastened up in her car seat), Lil’ Snookie knew the time was near.  Soon he would be joined by the ones he loved most so that they could all go home and be a family together and there would be no more tears.  He took up his post at the window to watch for that familiar vehicle to pull into the driveway and waited with an extra dose of hope.

He left his post by the window a time or two out of sheer frustration and rolled around on the sofa for a bit while he asked me how many more minutes it would be.  I’d give my best estimate and he would return to his post and do the only thing he could – wait.  We are like that, aren’t we, when we sense that our hopes are on the verge of being fulfilled?

In the difficult waiting times, I lean on Scriptures like these –

  • Isaiah 64:4: “Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him.”
  • Habakkuk 2:3: “For still the vision awaits its time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.”
  • Lamentations 3:25-26: “The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”

The last several months have offered Smuffy and me several instances in which we had no choice but to pray and wait and somehow make the choice to thrive in the waiting.  God has been faithful and He has seen us through.

There is no escaping the fact that there are more waiting times ahead.  Some come unexpectedly and some you can see coming a mile away.  I know full well that, short or long, there will be a wait once this screenplay is finished and studios begin to look at it.

Stress can be a necessary and good thing in our lives.  It can also be a killer.  Check out Part 1 and Part 2 of how to Fire Yourself and Re-hire Yourself by surrendering guilt so that the demands that you put on yourself and allow others to put on you can become more reasonable!

Don’t forget to share this with friends and family on your social media. Someone might be waiting for a bit of encouragement in their journey.

How about you?  Do you struggle through the long, hard waiting times?  Leave a comment and let me know what it is that sees you through and gives you hope.

The Underused Four-Letter Word

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 1 Comment

And so it goes on – winter.  The cold and snow can keep you homebound. Gray skies, when they don’t get the memo that enough is enough, can make you gloomy.  Christmas is over and sparkly decorations are put away.  Every other week it seems some new strain of crud is going around and doing its best to cancel events or make you wish they were canceled.

Then, those post-holiday bills arrive to remind us once again that next year the spending limit ought to be reduced.  Boosted by this bit of cheer, you hop online and print out your tax forms. Since you haven’t filled them out yet, you try to bask in a little ray of sunshine with the optimistic thought that perhaps, this time, Uncle Sam may have caught on to the idea that it is more blessed to give than to receive.

Around here, Smuffy has always been the one to see the glass as half empty while I typically view it as half-full.  I have to admit, though, that gray days spent with tax forms can take their toll on me.  Sometimes, you just need a reminder or a little jolt to alter your outlook.  I got one last week.

As is my habit, I watched the Trim Healthy Podcast (affectionately referred to by us THMers as “The Poddy”) on YouTube.  Sometimes it’s full of rock-solid science to boost your health and well-being.  Sometimes, it’s full of rabbit trails that provide the silliness that you may be lacking in your life and sometimes it provides a level of encouragement that will rock your world.

This one, Change Everything In Your Life With A Four Letter Word! [Podcast] Ep. 365 , was just what I needed and I think you’ll benefit by watching it as well!

I love it when there’s science behind encouraging things!  Near the beginning of the podcast, Serene shared that studies have shown that in order to create a synapse in the brain where you know a thing – really know it and you’re not going to forget it – it takes 400 repetitions of the information.  However, if you are laughing and playing while learning it, the process only requires 12 repetitions!  P-L-A-Y is the four-letter word that can change everything.  They went on to share many ways their mom incorporated play and ways they feel like they’ve lost their sense of play and want to get it back again.

Just think of it – how many times did you labor over those multiplication tables until they finally got in your head, but then heard some silly TV theme song around that same age only a handful of times, yet you can still sing it word-for-word today?  Are you maybe just a bit too grown up for your own good?

Why do you consider cleaning house or preparing meals for your family some type of drudgery when, as a child, you had hours and hours of fun with a toy cooking set and thought it was great when you got your own little broom and dustpan for Christmas or birthday.  I think of our Lil’ Snookie and his love affair with all things lawn care.  His excitement over toy mowers, leaf blowers and weed eaters knows no bounds and his mommy and daddy will be delighted if this attitude continues for many more years!

Smuffy and I discussed the podcast and agreed that we needed to tackle all the everyday stuff with an attitude of fun and play.  It takes a little effort at times.  He’s been having his share of issues lately that all seem to revolve around vehicles needing repair and I am in the middle of edits on the first novel in my upcoming series.  We’re trying to remind each other that we’re having fun.

Some days you succeed.  Some days you don’t.  After a mad search through a cupboard the other day that resulted in what sounded like three quarters of the contents landing on the floor, he finally found what he’d been looking for, but looked a bit out of sorts when he came into the room where I sat.  I tried to remind him that not only did he find it, but he had fun looking for it.  He promptly informed me that he did not have fun looking for it.  But we did laugh. 

Famous industrial engineer and efficiency expert, Frank Bunker Gilbreath, always thought of innovative ways to help his twelve children learn.  The family always rented the same big, old lighthouse for summer vacations and no one really cared whether it was kept pristine.  He would write all over the walls in Morse code and tell his children to figure out what the messages said.  He would likely have been a frustrated teacher if he had not written such things as, “The candy bar is in the top left desk drawer.”  In no time at all his children were challenging themselves to learn the code because they never knew what fun or prize might be in store.

Cooking, Lizard Holes and Watering Cans www.midweststoryteller.com

Lil’ Snookie’s presence is a great reminder for us to P-L-A-Y!  You can see in the top photo that he’s excited about putting on the apron over his jammies and fixing food for everybody!  Give him a watering can and he’ll do his best, even if in reality he’s about a thousand cans short.  The middle photo was more of a safari (apologies for quality as I snapped it through the porch screen).  He asked if he could go out in the yard because he wanted to find a big stick and look for a lizard hole, after which he would insert the stick and then bend down over the hole and shout, “Hallooooo!”  Someday, he may consider that to be frustrating or fruitless, especially if the lizard doesn’t answer, but right now, it’s P-L-A-Y!

I’ve learned to approach cooking healthy meals for my family with a sense of learning, adventure and play.  It has made all the difference!  Now, I just need to find out how to play with these tax forms.

If it’s snowy, make snow angels or at least watch someone else doing it.  Put out some cute decorations for winter or Valentine’s Day, or start making homemade Valentines now.  If the day is gloomy, try new soup recipes, play games with the kiddos or watch a funny movie.  Call a friend who’s recovering from the crud and spread some cheer.  Challenge yourself to cranking out those tax forms with some fun reward when it’s all over.

Struggling? Catch that podcast! Change Everything In Your Life With A Four Letter Word! [Podcast] Ep. 365

How do you find fun and play in the ordinary or the necessary?  Leave a comment and share.  It might bless someone’s day.  Go ahead – make us laugh.

Laughter plays a huge part in this, so don’t forget to visit my “Life With Smuffy” page and my “Laugh!” page.  They’re full of adventure and fun.

You is Kind. You is Smart. You is Important! You is a Thriver!

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 5 Comments

Now, didn’t that “Help”? Let’s push on with better grammar…

I fully disclose that as a Certified Lifestyle Coach I do, at times, receive monetary compensation as such. See The Fine Print on the “About Me” page of this blog.

I first shared these thoughts a few years ago, but I’ve decided it’s time to revisit this bit of common sense and encouragement.

I first thought to name this page of my blog “Stayin’ Alive!” Love those Bee Gees! Besides, if one doesn’t accomplish at least this much in regards to one’s health, all other attempts are pretty much useless, if you get my drift.

I soon ditched that idea. There’s more to life than stayin’ alive! What’s the point of being here if your quality of life stinks? I decided on “Thrive!”

I got serious about my health during pregnancy. Up until that point, I’d stuck strictly to the See Food Diet. If I saw it, I ate it. Tall and slim, it never seemed to affect me. My dad once told me, as he watched me eat, that someday I’d stop growing up and start growing out and then be sorry about my appetite! I ate three square meals a day – big ones! No one had better leave a box of doughnuts anywhere near me.

But now, I knew that whatever I fed myself, I also fed the baby. Yikes! I spent a lot of time at the library. The baby came (all eight pounds and three ounces of her) along with an epiphany. I needed to keep her healthy till adulthood. And, (DUH!) why feed my child one way and myself another? The adult population seemed to be made up of a bunch of sick people, anyway.

I recently read of an umbilical cord study which showed that a couple of hundred toxins were detected in the cords and the samples were not taken from moms who were addicted to drugs or alcohol or had experienced anything most people would consider hazardous.  They were only moms who used foods, shampoos and body products that most in our society walk into stores and buy without batting an eyelash.

Take a look at this photo. Note your first impression.

Lemonade In Gas Tank www.midweststoryteller.com

That’s the image that came to me. We can’t run on bad fuel! Yet, we live in a country where no one seems to grasp the concept.  Or, if they do, they don’t care!

Can you imagine? Your friend Gwendolyn tells you that she hates the smell of gasoline, dislikes waiting in line at the service station and once even dribbled gasoline into her brand new shoes. She’s switching. From now on, she’ll run her car on lemonade. She likes lemonade. Tastes better, smells better and isn’t quite so icky between the toes.

You stifle a snort of laughter and get down to business. Somebody’s gotta talk Gwennie out of this madness. Doesn’t she know she’ll ruin a valuable machine with a crazy notion like that?

Gwendolyn won’t listen. Her plan is good for her, she insists. She leaves. You call several friends. After howling with laughter over Gwendolyn’s stupidity, some compassionate soul in the group says, “Listen! Don’t you think we ought to call her mother or somebody? I mean, somebody’s gotta stop her!”

I gave myself a “talkin’ to”. It went something like this: “You are kind to yourself. You are smart enough to learn. You are important to your family and you need to be the best you can be.”

Poor Smuffy went kicking and screaming all the way, suffering through strange herbs drying on the kitchen counter, whole wheat everything and tinctures galore. He told me once that the thing that kept him healthy was positive confession. Each time he’d cough or sniffle, I’d come running with some form of what he termed “stump water” and he’d call out, “I’m okay. I’m OKAY!”

Despite my efforts, I got that call from the doctor nobody wants – a cancer diagnosis. I’d studied various aspects of health, but hadn’t paid much attention to what may open the doors to cancer. I had no family history and besides, I ate good stuff! With my terrific appetite, I ate the good stuff and had room left over for some of the bad stuff.

People told me I was too young for cancer. I asked myself, “How old is old enough?” The answer, I concluded, was NEVER! After surgery, I endured chemo and radiation as “insurance”, more or less, according to the doctors. I’m sure there will be a future blog post on that nasty little interlude.

People like me are called “survivors”. I rejected that term from the beginning. It left me with an image of someone emerging from a jungle – burned, bitten, half-naked and hunted – running for a lifeboat that may or may not spring a leak. By the grace of God, I’m a WINNER! I am kind to myself. I am smart enough to learn. I am important to God and my family! I’m going to thrive! 

I’ve learned much over the years, and it has turned my health around.  In blog posts here on my Food Freedom page, you’ll be receiving a lot of great health information to chew on so that you can make your own decisions and take charge of your health.  I am not your doctor and don’t pretend to be, but only hope to share helpful information.  You’re smart enough to do your own research.  You may see a few posts with some foods that contain ingredients that I’ve eliminated from my diet as I’ve grown wiser and learned what the real “frankenfoods” are.  I’ll be editing those to help you out as much as I can.

So…about your reaction to the photo. Did you want to scream, “Stop, you idiot!”? Yet, we, almost never stop friends when it comes to food. Cars can be replaced. You only get one body. Why treat the finest, most intricately-designed, valuable piece of machinery ever invented – the human body – as though it were disposable?

Since the purpose of Midwest Storyteller is to take you to a better place, I want to share what I did as a first step. I gave up soda. Why pollute my body with a non-food item? A sugary soda has as many calories as a full meal. (Sorry, but I’d rather have food.) Artificially sweetened, it’s dangerous stuff, and I want to thrive! It’s been decades since I’ve had a soda. I don’t miss it. I do enjoy, however, Stayin’ Alive!

Americans have a big problem. Take a look at this aisle in my local grocery store.

Soda Aisle www.midweststoryteller.com

That’s an entire aisle! All soda! They don’t devote this much space to bread, meat, cheese, etc.  Yes, America has a problem, but you don’t have to.  We can’t fuel up on junk because we feel like it or because, like Mount Everest, it’s there.  We are as capable of making the right choices with our bodies as we are with our cars.

Okay, enough tough love. I believe in you. You are kind to yourself. You are smart enough to listen to the “real you”. You are important to God and your family.

You are also strong! Here’s the challenge: Choose one thing – just one – and take that step. Stick with it for thirty days. Whether it is to give up soda, lay off the sugar, exercise for 20-30 minutes three times a week or get more sleep, you can do it!  (That last one is a personal struggle of mine if you came here for true confessions.)

Since I first shared this idea with you, I’ve been introduced to the common sense, sustainable world of Trim Healthy Mama.  After a couple of years reveling in not having to exclude any food groups (except for “frankenfood”), enjoying hearty fat-based meals, satisfying my muscles and hormones with carb-based meals and learning how to make yummy desserts while kicking sugar to the curb, I became a Certified Lifestyle Coach.  Ooh, did I mention that I lost that last annoying ten pounds I thought I’d never lose without constantly listening to my tummy growl?  The Trim Healthy lifestyle is something you can definitely do all on your own and I’d recommend that you start with the book, The Trim Healthy Mama Plan and begin your journey.  It’s written so anyone can understand the science of “why” and without that, we all lose motivation.

If you do decide you’re better off not going it alone, contact me.  I’m happy to coach you privately in person or by phone and if you’re within driving distance at our local weekly group sessions.

Comment, letting me know you’ve chosen one way to live a better life. Or, share something you’ve already done that might encourage others. In thirty days, comment again, letting me know that you’re not only Stayin’ Alive, but determined to Thrive!

SUBSCRIBE, because it won’t be long before I throw myself a little online party, celebrating the twenty-four years that stretch between me and that cancer diagnosis.

‘Tis the Season for Joy, So Try!

~ Midwest Storyteller

All the songs tell us that we should be delirious with happiness right now.  All the street lights should look like strings of lights and even the stop lights ought to be reminding us of ornaments as they blink a bright red and green.  With people passing and children laughing, we should be meeting smile after smile and every jingle or jangle we hear should be the sweet sound of silver bells.

I love Christmas.  My mom loved Christmas.  She knew how to make something out of nothing and take joy in what she did have and set aside any thoughts about what she didn’t have.  I love surprises and gift giving and if there’s one thing in life right now that has raised the joy in that, it is having our little Snookie.  At almost two years old, he’s all wonder and happiness.  Together, he and I have been making Christmas cards for him to give to his special people and when he “paints” with his markers, he is purposeful and pleased and understands that he’s making a beautiful thing that will make someone smile.

There are, of course, some of you who are having trouble mustering up a smile.  Perhaps it is for good reason.  There’s no getting around that for some people Christmas is a reminder of loss or past or present pain.  Sometimes it can be fear of loss if illness threatens someone you love.  It can also be the absence of someone due to miles or because there’s been a rift that you feel helpless to repair.

Whether you are decorating your heart out and baking mountains of cookies while the carols play or whether you are struggling, an extra smile can’t hurt, so I’d like to share one of our Christmas smiles with you.

Touching Jesus www.midweststoryteller.com

When Pookie arrives each day, she asks me how our day went and how things unfolded with lunch, naptime and Snookie’s mood and behavior (which, by the way, is nearly always wonderful).  Then on the drive home, she asks questions to get his version of the day.  I had decorated for Christmas and placed the Baby Jesus candle in the room where he naps so that we could light it while we snuggle, sing “Away In a Manger” and talk about Jesus.  (Do I need a disclaimer here to say that after he falls asleep I blow out the candle before I leave the room?)

The first day we lit the Baby Jesus candle, it was still fresh in his mind on the drive home.  The conversation went like this:

Pookie: Did you have a good day?

Snookie: Candle!
Pookie: Did Grandma have a candle?
Snookie: Light!
Pookie: You lit a candle?
Snookie: Jesus!
Pookie: Oh! You and Grandma lit the Baby Jesus candle?
Snookie: I do.  (Always his answer when he’s affirming an action or desire.)
Pookie:  Did you know Christmas is Baby Jesus’ birthday?
Snookie: Cake!!!
Pookie: Well, maybe we will have cake for Jesus’ birthday.
Snookie: Try Mama.

So, now, though we’ve not had the tradition in the past, Pookie is thinking that maybe a birthday cake is in order for Baby Jesus.  And, why not?  He is the reason for the celebration after all.

Children and their understanding of Christmas can not only bring us laughter, but bring us back to a place of wonder.  If you’ve wandered from your wonder into a place of commercialism, cynicism or down-heartedness, maybe it’s time to pray that your childlike joy returns.  I’d love to hear your stories of how the children in your life have understood Christmas, so please leave them in the comments.  I’d love to write a post filled entirely with those! 

One of my favorites is when my niece was discussing the Christmas story with her mommy.  They talked their way through it and when they got to the part about the wise men coming to bring gifts to Jesus, she asked what they tripped over.  Now, this puzzled my sister and she asked the reason for the question.  My niece gave the obvious answer:  “Mommy, it says they fell down and worshiped Him.  What did they fall over?”

I hope this has given you a smile.  I encourage you, like Snookie, to “try”.  Pull out your Bible and read through the portions of the book of Isaiah that promise us hope and tell us that the people walking in darkness have seen a great light.  The Light is Jesus and it far outshines the candles we use in symbolism.  Go to the New Testament and read the story of Jesus’ birth in the Gospels and ask Him to put that same “Peace on Earth and Good Will Toward Men” in your heart.  It’s more than just something to be printed on greeting cards.  Or, bake Him a cake!

Take the first step by going in search of the Christ-child.  Just try!

Still struggling with stress and perhaps even guilt? Check out “I Surrender All…Guilt” here and and “I Surrender All…Guilt” (Part 2) here.

Leave your comments with your fun Christmas stories, so we can all share Christmas smiles!

Subscribe either in the right sidebar on your computer or if on a device, navigate to the Contact page on the menu and you’ll see a subscription box. Be sure to “pin” this article and share it on your social media.

If you’re in need of a case of the out-and-out giggles, take a journey through my “Laugh” page and also the stories about my “Life With Smuffy”.

You Don’t Have to Be Irish to Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day

~ Midwest Storyteller

After all – and I hate to burst your little green bubble – St. Patrick wasn’t Irish.

No! Wait… What?

If folks could take a moment from pinching one another, guzzling green beer, searching for leprechauns or perhaps, more profitably, for pots of gold, they might be able to get down to the historical facts of the matter. So, now that you’ve taken the deep dive into your closet and found a green outfit for today, we can settle down to find out how the real story went down. We thrive on truth!

I like true stories, especially when I have a personal link to them. My mother loved keeping the family history and her side of the family is full of Irish, Scots and Brits. The more I learn about my fascinating ancestry, the more the British Isles move to the top of my list of places to visit. I don’t know about kissing that Blarney Stone, though. It looks mighty precarious and apparently some ancestor of mine must have kissed it long enough and hard enough to make it last because I’m already blessed with the gift of gab. My time in Ireland would be better spent trying to find and position the perfect headscarf in order to keep this mane of mine looking anything close to reasonable in that amount of wind. If all the hairdressers in Hollywood couldn’t keep Maureen O’Hara’s hairdo looking decent in all those movies, there’s little hope for me on a trip to Ireland!

Back to Patrick, now that I’ve taken the blarney detour. Let’s see, where were we?…

Oh, yes! Patrick wasn’t Irish at all. He was born in Roman Britain. His real name, according to my limited study on that point, was Maewyn Succat, which he wasn’t so fond of, so he called himself Patrick. Can’t say as I blame him. Imagine us all celebrating St. Maewyn’s Day. Nah!

He has nothing to do with leprechauns. Probably, if he ever encountered one, he would throw a few choice verses of Scripture at the vertically challenged little guy and it would go “poof” and disappear. He has nothing to do with pots of gold. People just associate that with leprechaun lore. I’m pretty sure that pinching people lay somewhere outside his personal boundaries, especially if it involved being so petty as to base it on the color of a person’s clothing. Leprechauns – now that’s another story. Should you encounter one, they are the ones who pinch you for not wearing green. The moral here is: Stick with Patrick. Avoid leprechauns.

I have no idea whether Patrick drank beer. He probably did, because he neither grew up nor spent his adult life in the land of teetotalism. I doubt that he bothered to color it green. Somehow, I think (and I’m pretty astute in these matters) this custom seems to be to be one of those that can be attributed to human nature. People who are looking for a great excuse to consume way too much of something will certainly latch on to any novel way to get the party started.

This brings us to snakes. Ireland is one of a handful of countries, including New Zealand, Iceland, Greenland and Antarctica, where snakes are not native in the wild. No snake with an ounce of sense would want to go to these places without a good, warm sweater and you’re probably less likely to meet up with that sight than you are a leprechaun. Saint Patrick had no need to drive snakes out of Ireland because there weren’t any. However, since the Scriptures refer to Satan as “the serpent”, the visual picture brought about by this mythical story is more than appropriate. Patrick, throughout his life, certainly dealt a blow to the wiles of the serpent.

Shamrocks? Yeah, you might want to pin one of those over your heart if you identify with the real Saint Patrick. Read on to discover why you might want to honor Saint Patrick on his special day.

The Real Saint Patrick www.midweststoryteller.com

I’ve heard it said that “the best revenge is a life well lived”. Joseph, after all his trials in Egypt, spoke these words to his brothers, “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” (Genesis 50:20 NKJV). Jesus said, “But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, (Matthew 5:44 NIV).

Tough stuff, but Patrick, by faith in the One who saved him, was able to do it. What an example!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Changing Time

~ Midwest Storyteller

It snowed here on October 26th – the first snowfall of the season and a bit jarring for someone like me.  I hadn’t even made the switch from Daylight Savings Time yet and that plunge into darkness is bad enough. I have a “love fall/hate winter” thing going on and I like to put the snow event off till Christmas Eve.  Make that dusk on Christmas Eve with somewhere between two and four inches.  However, I do have to admit there’s beauty in a frozen rose.

Frozen Joseph's Coat Rose

Today it was once again so beautiful that I put my ‘Lil Snookie in the stroller and we went for a long walk with not so much as a jacket.  I’m soaking up as many of these gems as God grants me before the actual Midwest Winter Nasties set in, unpack their frosty bags and refuse to leave until April except for brief episodes of hiding just to tease.

Recently, at my local writers group, we were challenged to write, on the fly, a story focusing on this time of year.  I thought I’d share mine with you today.  The prompt brought to mind the emotions that, for me, change with the season.

A nip in the air tells me that it’s changing time.  It happens every autumn.  For me, it comes as a strange mix – something between a child-like ecstasy and PTSD.

Soon the leaves will change and the inner voice tells me, so must I.

For ten minutes or so, I’ll lose myself in a world of cozy sweaters, chunky jewelry, scarves, boots and jeans.  Then, then some random distraction jerks me out of my reverie, my eye catches the strappy patent leather sandals I’ve left near my chair and I want to hug them and beg, “Please, don’t go!”

Each new fall sign brings another urge.  “Plant mums!” it says.  “What’s wrong with you?  Why are there no pumpkins on your porch?”  Yet, next to the front steps, my hot pink petunias wave and I wave back, “Please, don’t go!”

I make huge lists.  I need to stock up!  How squirrels do this without pen, paper and a phone app or two – I have no idea.  Herbs, spices, flours, broths, sauces and a bulk bag of chocolate (lest a blizzard set in) are all put on the list.  Three or four stores and two or three days later, the shelves are loaded, the checkbook’s been unloaded and I’m starting to calm as I take my tour of the estate and breathe the air that is now crisp.  I might be ready for colored leaves now.  That is, until my eyes fall upon the rows of pots clustered in the southern flower bed.  I feel an only too familiar pang at the sight of basil, parsley, sage, lemongrass and all the others and I stifle the urge to beg them, “Please!  Don’t go!”

How can this glory and this vibrancy bring this sadness?  Years of experience have proved that winter will pass, but it will pass slowly.

It seems my moods in autumn vary as much as do the many-colored leaves.

Autumn's First Snow www.midweststoryteller.com

How about you, Dear Reader?  Do you make a smooth transition into winter or do you curl up and feel as encrusted and weighed down as a rose that droops beneath the weight of unwelcome change? 

Science tells us, most unromantically, that it’s merely the chlorophyll’s exit that enables us to see the sugar in the leaves that up until now it’s kept hidden from view.  Perhaps that should serve as a great reminder to us to savor the sweetness of each beautiful autumn day and thrive in this beautiful season.

Autum is About to Tell Us How Beautiful It Can Be to Let Things Go www.midweststoryteller.com

How do you savor your autumn days?  Long walks?  Special events?  Scenic drives?  Leave a comment and share your favorite fall activities.

Pray That it May Passover

~ Midwest Storyteller

Our world has changed much these last several weeks and at no time have we been more aware of it so far than in preparing to change how we spend the next three days.

Many have taken a hit because of the corona virus.  Some have lost loved ones, some are working exhausting, back-breaking shifts while others only wish they had a job to go to.  The rest of us, here in the United States, are plodding along, wondering when we can again spend a day doing something we once took for granted – running errands.

The worldwide celebrations of Passover and The Resurrection of Christ have to rank at the top of the list of things Jews and Christians never thought they’d do without attending the largest faith gathering of the year, not to mention home gatherings to celebrate with family and friends.  We thrive when we practice our faith and share our holy days with one another and we’re feeling a bit cheated this year.

I just can’t go along with the idea that these events “got cancelled”!  Maybe we’ve forgotten that on the first Passover, Hebrew families were huddled, each in their own dwelling, partaking of a meal as instructed by God in order that the angel of death might pass over.  And what happened the following morning?  They were set free from cruel taskmasters and the bondage that had been their way of life for four hundred years.  Perhaps we’ve forgotten that when Jesus, our Perfect Passover Lamb, lay in His borrowed tomb, all his followers scattered each to their own homes, hiding.  No throng gathered at the entrance to that tomb on Sunday morning to celebrate the Big Day.  They were, for the most part, each in their homes, confused and scared. 

Neither group called it “social distancing”, but when you’re shutting yourself away from deadly plague or staying inside so that no one recognizes you and reports you to the authorities, it amounts to the same thing and reminds us that our situation is mild in comparison.

If you knew you had the cure for cancer, would you keep it hidden, or would you share it with the world, hoping to save even one who might listen?

I believe there’s an answer.  I won’t tell anyone else what they must believe, but neither will I hide “the Cure” when people all over the world are suffering.

I believe in the loving God who calls his people to pray and then answers.   I believe Scriptures hold examples, instructions and insights on how to pray.  I believe in “standing on the promises” as the old hymn goes!  I believe now is the time, this special weekend, when we’ve been offered a quiet time with just those few closest to us, to pray like we’ve never prayed before – to be bold in coming before God’s throne to ask that this plague on our health and our economy might “pass over”!

I’m asking my readers to join me and to SHARE this prayer right away with all your friends and family so that we can stand on these promises together, fasten our spiritual seat belts and see what the Deliverer will do if we will but ask.  Scripture references are included to encourage you to delve into God’s Word and see what He promises (and also so you won’t think I’ve been nipping into the hand sanitizer).

I hope this has inspired you to pray and believe for an answer.  I encourage you to print this out and read it aloud together with those you celebrate with this weekend. I’ve included a FREE easy-to-read PRINTABLE HERE.

Wherever you are, may you have a Blessed Passover and a Glorious Resurrection Day and may we celebrate next year together!

“The Lord bless you
    and keep you;
 the Lord make his face shine on you
    and be gracious to you;
 the Lord turn his face toward you
    and give you peace.”  —Numbers 6:24-26 (NIV)

How have you adapted your celebrations during this season of social distancing?  What great food ideas have you invented because you might not have been able to get your hands on the usual ingredients?  How have you decorated when you haven’t been able to acquire a few new things?  Leave a comment and give us all your tips!

The Happiest New Year!

~ Midwest Storyteller ~ 3 Comments

Perhaps you’ve been wondering if Midwest Storyteller has fallen off a cliff or something – but no, what I have been doing is falling in love.

I’ve been a little too preoccupied to think about blogging for the last few weeks because we’ve started off the new year oh, so right!

The Grandma Life is SWEET! www.midweststoryteller.com

This 9 pound, 9 ounce bundle of love managed to squeak in at the tail end of 2019, leaving Smuffy and me changed forever. We can’t get enough of staring at that fresh, sweet face and twiddling those precious fingers and toes. And the squeaky little noises and the smiles – don’t be telling us that’s just gas – every one is meant just for us.

We’re new at this grand-parenting thing, but we’re convinced that we’ll have no trouble falling into the groove. This boy is a miracle and his mommy and daddy are amazing us with the the natural way they take to parenting. We knew they had it in them all along!

Look for more at Midwest Storyteller in the days ahead – just as soon as I can tear myself away from the nuzzling and the head kissing.

If your 2020 is as blessed as mine, your world is going to be fabulous!

May you be blessed in each and every day that lies ahead!